As Beautiful As You
by Roni Black
Summary: Told from Remus's point of view, after Sirius's death.


_A/N: This story was written on the request of my dear soul sister Lyan, and is therefore dedicated to her, with love, for her 18th birthday._

_A/N #2: I just found this story, which I wrote almost four years ago (has it been that long?!), and decided to upload it. This is the only Remus/Sirius I've ever written. I think it's pretty obvious that Tonks doesn't exactly exist in this story. Hope you like!_**  
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**As Beautiful As You**

**By Roni Black**

You are gone now.

Everyone says they are going to remember you forever. But I already know how it works. I've watched it closely, too many times. A person you care for dies. For a while, you're horror-struck. You don't know what to do. You think you can't live without them. That there's no point in going on with your life. But life goes on nonetheless. And after a while, that person is nothing more than a faded memory.

Which is exactly what you will never be to me.

It was never very hard to make me happy. I never asked for too much. I was normally just fine with the way things were. My parents always remarked on how easy it was to keep me satisfied.

There were these few years before I entered Hogwarts though, when I was not satisfied. You would know why better than anyone else; you're the only one I shared all the details with, keeping nothing to myself. I told you about the pain. The fear. The loneliness. You knew everything. You were the only one who did.

When I entered Hogwarts, though, my little 'problem', as James liked to call it, didn't seem so important any more. I had met friends. For the first time in my life, I had good, close friends.

There were four of us, inseparable, courageous Gryffindors, very different but very similar all the same. We were there for each other, always. We stood up to each other. We helped each other with everything.

You and James were the inseparable ones, really. He was your best friend. You would have done anything for him. The two of you had such a correlation in your speech, in your gestures, in your mischievousness, that it could not have been anything different. I knew that, and it was all right with me. I was a bit of an outsider. That was me, always, an outsider. But it was always all right. I was grateful for having the three of you in my life. I was easily satisfied. I didn't care about not being your best friend, as long as I was your friend.

But I was afraid. Afraid of sharing my deepest, darkest secret with you guys. Afraid you would not be there for me if you knew the truth, if you knew who and what I really was. Still am, and always will be.

I should have realized you would find out eventually, but I was not even into my teens yet, an innocent child. Just a child. But so were you, a mere boy of twelve. And yet, as young and innocent as you were, your eyes as you looked at me that night had the exact same expression they did as you grew up. "How could you think we would betray you? How could you imagine we wouldn't be there to support you? What are friends for?" You spoke loudly, hotly, urgently, the fire dancing in your eyes a beautiful sight, and it seemed that the thought I hadn't trusted you with my secret had truly hurt your feelings.

And you didn't let me down. None of you did. You and James spent day and night studying, trying to figure out how you could become Animagi, just for me. And, yeah, because it seemed cool. But mainly for me.

We were fifteen when we began our late-night adventures and explorations, and never again did my problem bother me. On the contrary, I was – it's a horrible thing to say, but it's true – I was so glad about it. It brought me and my friends closer. This was worth any price, any physical pain and discomfort.

However, around the same time we started exploring Hogsmeade at nights, you started spending your other nights doing other things. For the first time, you weren't always around; you would sit in an armchair in front of the fireplace, five or six girls sitting around you, or at your feet, and you would brush a strand of dark hair off your eyes (making them all giggle hysterically – it always fell right back on your eyes) and tell some sophisticated joke (making them all moan in admiration – they never got your jokes, though they would have liked to think they did).

You were impossibly good-looking, and there was not a single girl in the entire school – well, except for Lily, perhaps – who wouldn't sacrifice her pride and dignity (and virginity, mostly) for you. And so many girls have.

I believe it was snowing the day that I first realized something that had always been there; Peter, James and I were playing in the snow. I felt lighter and happier than I had in months; I was young and free and reckless. I gathered up snow and started to throw a snowball at James; it would have hit him right in the face, as he was too busy throwing smaller ones at Peter to look out. But I stopped midway as I saw you. You were leaning against the wall of the castle, with a girl leaning against you. You had your hands inside her robes, wrapped around her, and you were kissing.

Up until then, I had never seen you kiss a girl. I knew that you were, of course, pretty much most girls around, but you wouldn't normally do it publicly, and it had never been tangible to me, until that day. You never kissed a girl in the common room. You would take her out for a walk, mostly, or to the Room of Requirement.

Now I saw that kiss, and it was some kiss, too. I began to wonder after a while how you were still able to breathe; she must have been choking you, standing that close and leaning against your chest, _and_ blocking your airways with her tongue.

Something inside of me broke. Simple as that. Then I felt cold. Numb. I turned away. I walked back to the castle without looking back. I couldn't, I didn't dare explain to myself what had happened, what I was feeling. It was too much for me.

It was longing to something I had never had but always wanted. It was want. It was fear. But above all, it was familiar. It wasn't new... it was not new. I had known it all along, but ignored it, too stupid and bloody scared to understand myself.

And all of a sudden, I was not so easily satisfied. I was not willing to settle for being your second-best friend. I was envious; I was mad. I was mad at you, as if this was your fault, and I was mad at every girl who dared looking at you, and I was mad at James for being closer to you and knowing all your secrets, and I was even mad at Peter, though he had truly done nothing to upset me.

And all of a sudden, I had a new deep, dark secret, and this one somehow seemed much deeper and much, much darker.

It happened several months later. You returned to the common room late one night, after everyone had already gone up to bed, except me. There was nothing unusual about it; I always stayed up late studying, and you always went on night trips.

But this time it was different. Something was wrong, and missing, and you knew it. You just stood there looking at me, and I got the peculiar feeling that you were reading me. You realized everything without me saying a single word.

You knew my secret. Just as you had discovered my secret in our childhood, you now discovered my secret in our youth. And this time, all you needed was to look at me, look at me for real, with your heart, not your eyes. And you knew.

"I'm not with her," you said unnecessarily, approaching me as you spoke.

"I know," I said, staring at you as if you were mad. Then we both burst out laughing. We were still laughing as our lips met and I drew you closer. We were still chuckling, a little short for breath, as we drew apart some long moments later, perhaps a century.

We swore to secrecy. I didn't really care. As long as I had you, I truly didn't care very much whether the whole world knew, or no one but you and me. I really believe James knew something, though, don't you? The way he looked at us when we came back at nights, when we exchanged smiles and private jokes, or that time when he found us in an empty classroom... Luckily we weren't snogging, but we were way too close, and even though we drew apart the moment he entered, he was not stupid.

It never occurred to me in those days, I never gave you all the credit you quite deserved. You were so different than your family, you were never loved by them, and yet you were always cheerful, always smiling and laughing, and you had so much love to give... _So much love,_ more than I had ever imagined I would be given. And you deserved to be loved back.

_...will you ever forgive me for not telling you?_

It seemed as though time was flying. Voldemort had risen and we all joined the Order of the Phoenix. The war drew some people apart, but brought some others closer; Arthur and Molly, for instance. Lily and James. You and me.

I was having the time of my life then, honestly. It is a horrible thing to say, but I was.

And it was too soon, much too soon, that everything was destroyed, that I lost James and Lily and Peter – and you – in one night.

I couldn't believe it, I did not want to believe it, but I had no choice. Peter and James were dead – or so I believed; everyone kept saying you were a traitor, and that you had betrayed your best friend and the Order. They had evidence, and I – shattered into pieces, having lost my three best friends in one bloody night – I wanted to believe them. It was so much easier to believe that you had betrayed all of us, that you served as a spy for Voldemort, that you had been lying to us – to me – all along.

I will never forgive myself for that. I know that you have, though; you always found it very easy to forgive people. Perhaps it was easier to forgive me for suspecting you, because you had suspected me even before that.

Twelve long years passed before I saw you again. And when I did, you were nothing but a broken shell of a man, depressed by the Dementors, a completely different you than the one I remembered. But I didn't care. You were back. And you wanted me, even though I had suspected you, even though it had been twelve years.

And God, you had changed so much in Azkaban. How could you not have, coming to think of it. You had grown such masses of wild hair that I wondered how you could still see anything – it kept covering your eyes. You probably had flees in it, you didn't give any thought to your looks or hygiene anymore. You were rough, brutal, bitter and sarcastic; you were easily angry just as easily as you were scared.

But being with you was just as good as I remembered, after twelve years.

You spent a year in hiding, visiting me from time to time, and I visited you whenever I could and brought you food and blankets. Then you moved back into your parents' old house. How you hated that house, you had always told me; now you had to live there. But you'd do anything for the Order.

I wanted to move in as well. I knew how lonely you were. But the Order came first, as we agreed, and the Order kept me so busy, I was nearly out of time and energy; I would come home so late at night that all I wanted was sleep.

Yes, that last year we grew apart, instead of growing closer. You were lonely and bitter, all alone in that house, while I was hardly ever home, and always tired and busy.

_The last month._ Do you recall that last month? How we suddenly found time and energy to spend together? Do you recall that long conversation that lasted nearly two days, with no one to interrupt us, and finally falling asleep in front of the fireplace? Do you recall how much easier things suddenly seemed, how we believed we could face anything now we were back together? Officially we had been together before too, but only now did it bring us any consolation.

_The last week._ I clung onto you as if I knew. I knew something was going to happen. I didn't even know I did, but I did. Do you recall how you eventually got tired of me? Do you recall how, for the first time ever, you told me "No" when I wanted to take you? How hurt I was, and how you made it up to me, two hours later, with a box of chocolates – most of which you ate yourself – and an amazing night that followed.

_The last day._ I will remember every detail of that day, until I die. We spent the whole day together, not letting each other go for a minute. Then I got an urgent message from Dumbledore. I went to see him. Meanwhile, you were upstairs and didn't hear Harry as he came to see if you were there. It took an hour for us to realize what had happened, and we all rushed to the Department of Mysteries at once. From here on, the details are too painful, although I cannot – will not – forget any of them.

They took you away from me. And from Harry, and Dumbledore, and the Order. But mainly me. Perhaps it sounds selfish, but it's true.

I lost you forever that night. My best friend, my lover, my life. But you did not go alone; you took my soul with you; and as one is perfectly able to live without one's soul, as I once explained to Harry, I am still alive.

I am lying, though. I wish you had taken my soul; I would not have to feel anything right now if you had. But I feel the pain very vividly, and I will feel it every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day until I die.

I work for the Order. Order comes first. I dedicate myself to it. I give everything I have, for I have nothing to lose anymore. I went to live with werewolves. I'm a spy. But I'm never afraid anymore. You see, I know that when I die, I will see you again.

And I feel almost guilty for saying it, but when I think of it this way, death seems like the best thing that can happen to me, eventually.

I think of the fact that you had still so much to give, so much love in you; and yet so few people have ever been close to you, and no one, no one in the world has ever told you these three simple words...

I knew you were longing to hear them, I knew you have never said them before to anyone and I had to be the first to say them...

And I wanted to...

But I never did...

Can you ever forgive me for not telling you? When I see you again, I will tell you. I will say it as many times as it takes for you to believe me...

I have never told you this, although I knew you were wondering, but you were the only one I have ever touched, and the only one I have ever wanted. For twelve years you were in Azkaban, and I didn't have anyone else, nor did I want anyone. Before you, there was nobody else. And after you, there is nobody else, nor shall there ever be.

Nor did I ever tell you these simple words that no one, no one in your whole life has ever told you...

These three words you, my beautiful friend, always longed to hear... Life was too short, and I was too much of a coward, and things got in the way...

And I have no excuses. You were so beautiful in every way. Brave, and generous, and kind, and loving. You were nothing like your family; you were nothing like anyone else I knew. Life was hard on you, and it made you bitter and sarcastic, but even after twelve years in Azkaban you were still had more beauty in you than most people get to see in their lives. And you deserved then, as you do now, to finally hear the words you have always longed to hear and I have always longed to say:

Sirius, I love you. I always have.

**...**

_(from Vincent – Don McLean:)_

_For they could not love you  
But still, your love was true.  
And when no hope was left inside  
On that starry, starry night  
You took your life as lovers often do.  
But I could've told you..._

_**This world was never meant  
For one as beautiful as you.**_


End file.
